


A Spark and a Werewolf Get Kicked Out of a Bar (Stop Me If You've Heard This One)

by Freshnonsense42



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Deputy Derek Hale, Drunkenness, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Past Jennifer Blake/Derek Hale, Spark Stiles Stilinski, from the past and not between Stiles and Derek, mate bond, sterekmystery, sterekweek2019, that's not super relevant though, the mystery is what happened the night before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-12-24 12:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freshnonsense42/pseuds/Freshnonsense42
Summary: The McCall Pack and the Hale Pack have lived peacefully in Beacon Hills ever since Scott presented as a True Alpha. After years of refusing, Alpha McCall has finally agreed to merge the two packs. He has even agreed to let Alpha Hale be the alpha of the combined pack.Emissary Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale, son of Alpha Hale do not get along. At all.After a drunken night together, and only vague memories, the two must work together to sort out how they managed to form a mate bond. Something that should be impossible for two near strangers to form.





	A Spark and a Werewolf Get Kicked Out of a Bar (Stop Me If You've Heard This One)

_Present_

Ice water rips Derek from unconsciousness, causing his fangs to elongate and his claws to pop out. He’s snarling before his eyes, glowing beta gold, are even open. The body underneath his arm sputters threats about hexes and curses. 

Boyd, a Hale Pack beta, stands over Derek, blank faced but with a twinkle in his eye. That twinkle warns of danger for Derek, but he can’t focus on that. Instead Derek’s attention is drawn to the body underneath him. The magic one that doesn’t cause the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. 

Stiles Stilinski, McCall Pack… magical something, glares at him as though the water wake-up call is somehow Derek’s fault. Why isn’t Derek more wary of him? He has a memory of running into Stiles last night, two days after their official pack meeting, and a memory of unease. But now… nothing. He feels calm with a magic user. 

He also has bits of memory missing from last night. 

Stiles shoves at Derek’s chest, which doesn’t do much with his human strength, with a grunt. “Get off me, asshole. What the hell happened last night?”

Derek sits up straight and grips his head with a groan. Wolfsbane alcohol also meant hangovers. “You don’t remember?” He grits out and listens carefully to Stiles’ heartbeat.

“Duh. You’re Boyd, right? What was with the slap to the face via water?”

“You broke into my house and stole my keys to the ice rink.”

Derek turns to stare at Stiles, but is assaulted by vague memories of _suggesting_ they do those things. Stiles stares right back at Derek and an evil glint in his eye is daring Derek to give him a reason. Of course a magic user would be eager to snitch on someone. 

Ignoring him, Derek shoves himself onto his feet- _tries_ to shove himself onto his feet. He wobbles on the ice skates he’s wearing, for whatever reason, and barely suppresses the urge to vomit. He is too damn old to deal with hangovers.  


“Boyd”-

“Get out.”

“But”-

“No, man. I’ve got elementary age ice skaters showing up in twenty minutes. I’m not letting future Olympians see two drunk idiots fumbling around here. I’m not letting _parents_ of future Olympians see that. Take your drunk ass and get out.” 

Derek’s shoulders slump, but he knows better than to think he’ll get anything out of Boyd now. He turns to leave, but Boyd stops him. “Nope. Take Stilinski too.”

“He’s not my responsibility!”

“You brought him in, you take him out.”

“Uh, Stilinski can take care of himself,” says Stiles indignantly. Derek looks down to find Stiles on his hands and knees with his head hanging between his shoulders. A strong wind would knock him down. 

Derek bends, grabs Stiles’ arm, and jerks him into standing. Stiles flails and complains about needing to barf. He drags Stiles over to a bench and pushes him onto it. Stiles immediately bends at the waist and says, “Put your head between your legs and kiss your ass good-bye.”

“Shut-up. Get your shoes on and let’s go.” 

Stiles manages to untangle his skate’s laces and flip them off his feet. He loudly complains about his lost shoes and how the ice rink is his forever home, until Boyd throws Stiles’ shoes at his head. Derek manages to catch his own shoes, but it’s a near thing. His reflexes are hindered by the hangover. 

Once they’re on solid ground again, Derek shoves Stiles towards the door, even as Stiles flails away from his touch. “Stop that. Just walk.”

“Yes, officer,” says Stiles, the words dripping sarcasm on the carpet. “Y’know, breaking and entering is a _crime_. Shouldn’t you arrest yourself?”

Derek smiles, more to bare his teeth at Stiles than anything else, and says, “Only if I arrest you first.” Once they’re outside the bracing chill of 5 AM in late October greets them. It goes a long way to clearing Derek’s head. “What did you do to me last night?”

“Do to you? I didn’t do anything to you, Grumpy.” Stiles pauses then adds, “One of the seven dwarfs from the Disney classic.” Derek rolls his eyes. “What did you do to me? I don’t have many memories of last night. Holy shit. Did we get black out drunk together?”

“Why would I get drunk with a magic user?” Derek sneers the word, even though the weight of dread in his stomach isn’t present. Something happened last night that made it so Derek isn’t afraid of Stiles anymore. Which is, in and of itself, terrifying.

* * *

_Last Night_

“Hey, sourwolf!” Derek jerked at the semi-familiar voice and felt his hackles rise. Had the magic user followed him? Stiles slammed his hand on the bar and said, “Heard you’ve been talking shit. If you’ve got something you wanna say, say it to my fucking face.”

Derek’s lip curled, even though he had just been lectured by his alpha (unavoidably also his mother, good luck guessing whether her alpha voice or her mom voice was worse) to be polite to the magic user. Beacon Hills needed the McCall Pack and Hale Pack to merge. McCall might be a True Alpha, but he was a shit leader. 

There had been nothing but chaos since a rogue alpha bit him. It would have gone more smoothly if McCall had accepted the Hale Pack’s help. Instead, he’d been convinced they were behind the rogue alpha. He’d done minimal work with the Hale Pack and relied heavily on his friend, Stiles Stilinski, who came into his magical powers about the same time. 

Derek was of the opinion that Stiles was behind McCall’s reluctance to join their pack. What werewolf didn’t want pack? McCall, even if he had potential for True Alpha status, should have craved pack and an alpha. Unless a magic user convinced him that a werewolf didn’t actually need those things. 

Derek leaned his back against the bar and shrugged. “All I said was magic users are shifty. If you’re offended by that, it says more about you than me.”

“Definitely,” agreed Stiles with exaggerated cheer. “The same way if I said werewolves are self-important assholes, it’s your fault if you’re offended.”

“That’s not true.” Derek straightened, his teeth bared. He took Stiles’ words as a direct judgment on his pack and not to be tolerated.

Stiles’ eyes were wide with faux innocence, even as he spoke with razor sharp words. “But, I’ve met _you_.” 

The bartender pushed a shot and a glass of beer over towards Derek. Stiles lurched forward and stole the shot. Almost the second his mouth was filled, Stiles spat the entire thing out. The bar top and a sleeve of Derek’s shirt were soaked. Apparently, Stiles remembered the wolfsbane.

Derek gripped his shirt and snapped, “Fucking thief.”

Stiles met furious gaze with furious gaze. “Sorry. I thought it was a gift from a Hale Pack ambassador to a McCall Pack ambassador. Shitty gift, btw. What was that? A dollar shot.”

Derek shoved him towards the bar. “All right McCall Pack ambassador,” he sneered, “you can return my ‘gift’ with a gift of your own.”

“Sure. Tall glass of water?”

When the bartender came back to them Derek said, “Five shots for him and five for me.”

They got into an argument about the benefit of a magic user in a pack. Somehow it became tied up in downing shots. Every point they made had to be followed by a shot or it was invalid. 

After a few too many shots Stiles’ hands and Derek’s eyes were glowing gold and Derek's fangs were lowered. Neither of them realized anything was amiss until the bar’s bouncers were neutralizing them. 

After they were kicked out, they sat slouched against the bar’s exterior wall. Derek said, “I hate you.”

“Right back at you, big guy. Also you’re wrong.”

“Oh my god.” Derek grabbed Stiles’ arm and dragged him to stand. 

* * *

_ Present _

Outside Stiles looks at his phone and says, “Holy shit.” Derek imagines that he has just as many missed texts and calls from the McCall Pack as Derek has from the Hale Pack. 

Derek dials his moms number and says, “Something’s wrong with the packs,” then pauses. He hadn’t meant to say that to Stiles. It is none of Stiles’ business if the pack left a few hundred texts and calls on his phone.

Over Stiles' shoulder, Derek sees him tap on Lydia’s name, which seems odd. Why wouldn’t he call his alpha? He nods at Derek. “Maybe an attack while the packs were together?”

He shrugs then twists away from Stiles. “Mom? What’s wrong? Is everyone ok?”

“Derek Andrew Hale, what did you do?”

“What?”

“What?!” Stiles squawks behind him. 

Stiles is crouched low to the ground, but he’s glaring at Derek. He couldn’t have done anything to the McCall Pack last night. He and Stiles had spent the night together… hadn’t they?

“You mate bonded with Stiles?”

“What?!”

Stiles falls onto his ass in the ice rink parking lot and groans. “Lydia,” he whines, “how could you let this happen?”

“Nothing happened.” Derek kicks the sole of Stiles’ shoe. 

Talia, because she was definitely acting as Alpha Hale and not his mom, says, “You can’t feel the pack bond with him?” 

Derek tests the pack bonds and immediately notices a new one. It’s electric and vibrant and _strong_. There’s no way a mate bond should have even taken between two almost strangers. Even if they had managed to force a bond, it should not be this strong. 

He lowers himself onto the ground beside Stiles. “Shit, Mama. I didn’t- he must’ve tricked me.”

“Hey! Asshole!” Stiles shoves at Derek, which effectively does nothing. “Maybe you tricked me! How badly does the Hale Pack want a True Alpha?”

“Not badly enough for _this_,” Derek snarls at him. Even as his terror and fury peaks, the words turn to ash in his mouth. Something happened between them last night, because Derek knows that wasn't just a mean thing to say. That was punching below the belt. But he has no idea why he knows that.

Stiles’ eyes harden and he says, “Fuck you,” then stands and storms away. 

“Oh, Derek,” says Talia, wearily. “You could have handled that with a bit more tact.”

“He’s a magic user, Mama.”

“That doesn’t make him evil.” Derek snorts, but he doesn’t believe it. Stiles is a lot of things - loud mouthed, obnoxious, a know-it-all, _lithe_ \- but he isn’t evil. 

Talia sighs. “You both need to get back to the house. We have to deal with this, particularly since you and Stiles don’t seem to want to keep the bond.”

Derek’s wolf whines against the idea of the bond breaking. He manages to keep himself from vocalizing it though. His wolf doesn’t know what’s best for him. 

“We’ll be there soon.”

After he hangs up Derek stands there and stares unseeingly at the asphalt parking lot. He had known as soon as Stiles showed up the other day that he was trouble. No matter how many times he warned people, none of them believed him.

Laura had called Stiles _adorable_. Cora had deemed him ‘not completely unbearable’. Even _Peter_ had said Stiles was an ‘intriguing young man’. Peter was suspicious of everyone!

And now he was mate bonded to a magic user he barely knew. After all his effort to avoid relationships, he was stuck with a stranger. For the rest of their lives. Even if they somehow found a way to break the bond, it wouldn’t disappear, there would always be the phantom feeling of the bond. If the McCall Pack joined the Hale Pack, it would only make things worse. 

Derek glances across the parking lot at Stiles. He’s leaned against Boyd’s car with his arms crossed as he stares mulishly away from Derek. The fresh mate bond makes distance difficult for them. It will ease with time, until they reach a point where they can easily be on other sides of the world. The whole point of the bond is to enable distance without feeling the distance. 

Derek shoves his phone into his pocket and crosses over to where Stiles stands. Stiles’ jaw ticks as Derek stands next to him and says nothing. After a moment Derek says, “We should get to the house.”

Stiles pushes away from Boyd’s car and says, “No. We’re going to the liquor store.”

* * *

_ Last Night _

“_Mountain Brew_ tastes like piss!” Stiles yelled, inches away from Derek’s face. He offered challenges the way a werewolf would. Teeth bared and snarling. 

“Strawberry flavored _Nymph’s Ale_ tastes like cough syrup,” Derek growled. “If you think I’m gonna drink that sickeningly sweet _imitation_ strawberry you’re wrong. I’ve got standards.”

“Standards?! I’ll show you fucking standards, sourwolf." Stiles flapped his hands around, but didn't do much else to prove his point. "You asinine hipster with your fucking _Mountain Brew_. You know that shit's not actually made by witches, right? They just fucking market it that way.”

“_Hipster_? Me? With your fucking skinny jeans and beanie. It’s fucking September”-

“It’s October, asshole.”

Derek paused, blinked a few times in rapid succession, then bunched his eyebrows together. “How long have I been drunk?” He asked seriously. Stiles stared at him with his mouth parted for a beat, then burst into uncontrollable laughter. Derek scowled at Stiles' delight in the situation. He was _furious_ with Stiles and his wolf did _not_ preen from having amused him. He grumbled, “Idiot.”

“At least I know what month it is!”

“Shut-up. We’re getting _Mountain Brew_.” Derek snagged a 24-pack off the shelf, even though he didn’t think they’d drink that much. Stiles would probably flail at the amount though. It was worth it. 

“Fuck you! We’re getting _Nymph’s Ale_!”

“Uh, guys?” They both turned to glower at the man behind the register. His eyes widened and he took a literal step away from the counter. 

A sober part of Derek was aware that the man was human, and that it was wrong to scare him this way. Non-supernaturals were always wary of supernaturals. There were people who thrived on keeping a close eye on supernaturals to 'keep them in line'. Derek’s family was well known enough that someone could recognize him, and they could use this as proof that the Hale Pack was out of control and needed to be put down. 

Most of Derek was drunk and furious at the moron beside him and didn’t care about the cashier. He poured all his energy into scowling at him. Stiles and Derek were having a _private_ argument. 

The cashier visibly swallowed. “You- you can just buy both.” His eyes darted down one of the other aisles. Derek saw the tops of a blonde head and a brunette head over there. “You can’t fight in here. Or- or I’ll have to call the police.” He squared his shoulders and nodded firmly. 

Derek rolled his eyes at the threat. Not because he didn’t think his fellow deputies wouldn’t throw him in the drunk tank, they would with glee, but because Derek didn’t care. He set the box on the counter and said, “I’m buying this. I would rather sober up than buy _Nymph’s Ale_.” 

Stiles slammed a 24-pack of strawberry flavored _Nymph’s Ale_ onto the countertop. “_Oh yeah_, I’m sure your trust fund would be fucking wrecked by twenty-five bucks. Stingy McStingerson.”

“I’ve changed my mind. I want to buy all the _Nymph’s Ale_ and pour it down the toilet. Where it belongs.”

“I’m a whiny jerk face,” said Stiles in a ridiculously low voice, “and I don’t know how to do nice things for potential pack mates.”

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll buy your goddamn ale! Shut the fuck up!”

Stiles folded his hands primly on top of his box and sniffed disdainfully. “I don’t need your charity.” 

Derek growled at him. “I am going to rip your throat out.” He leaned closer and added, “With my teeth.”

The cashier squeaked in terror. Stiles leaned in so that his nose nearly touched Derek’s and said, “Joke's on you, that does it for me.”

Derek’s eyebrows spasmed with confusion. “What?”

“Yeah. Get you a freak like me.” Then he slammed his credit card on the counter and said, “I don’t need a receipt, thanks.”

“You son of a bitch! I’m buying your alcohol.” 

“Pretty sure I’m buying yours,” said Stiles as the cashier checked them out. Derek growled, low and long, in his chest. Stiles shrugged. “Don’t hate because I’m _kinder_ than you.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Stiles grabbed his box off the counter and turned with dramatic flare towards the exit. He paused at the door and frowned at Derek. “Where are we going? We can’t drink outside. My dad will arrest us for open-container… use?”

Derek nudged him around and said, “I know a place.”

* * *

_Present_

The liquor store is a 24-hour store, which is convenient, and says a lot about the state of Beacon Hills’ alcoholics. When Derek and Stiles stumble into the store, both with pounding heads and cotton mouth, the cashier shrinks away. Which means they made a lasting impression on him. Great. 

Stiles swaggers over to the counter and grins at the guy. Derek blinks after him because he had no idea Stiles could move his hips that way. Not that it matters. It’s just… new information. 

“Hey, dude. I know you’re a busy guy, but do you remember me? And slash or that asshole?” 

The cashier’s eyes dart to Derek, but he ignores him to frown at Stiles. “Um… yes?”

“Great! I’m here for information. I remember that Derek here was being a pretentious dick head”-

“_Pretentious_?” Derek interrupts in outrage. “You’re the one who kept going on about how your stuff was made by real nymphs.”

“It is.”

“It’s alcohol, Stiles.”

“Yeah, well, some of us care about our supernatural brethren’s image being exploited.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “You are a witch. Anyone can become a witch with enough research.”

Stiles finally turns away from the cashier to glare daggers at Derek. “I’m not a witch. Maybe, instead of judging everyone all the freaking time with your eyebrows, you should, I dunno, get to know them first. I’m a Spark.”

Flashes of memory from last night filter through Derek’s head. Stiles and him lying somewhere in the dark, talking softly because they’re too drunk to fight. Stiles _telling_ him about his Spark. And Derek forgot. 

“And just because anyone can be a witch, doesn’t mean it’s not shitty when companies use their lore and imagery to sell stuff. Maybe if _Mountain Brew_ was made by witches it wouldn’t taste like piss.”

Derek growls, distracted from his embarrassment over not remembering last night. “Nymphs making that ale didn’t help it not taste like chemicals and syrup.”

“Guys?” The cashier says and they both turn their fury on him. He hunches his shoulders. “Um, you can’t fight in here again. Seriously.”

Stiles sucks in a breath, smooths his face out, and releases a rush of air through his nose. He smiles at the cashier. Which is stupid, because it’s not like the cashier needs a smile. He already thinks Derek and Stiles are menaces. What’s Stiles going to do? Flirt the answers he wants out of him. 

“Sorry, dude. I’m sure we were assholes last night. I promise we’ll get out of your hair in a minute.” The cashier relaxes the longer Stiles smiles at him. Derek crosses his arms and huffs. “Ignore him,” says Stiles when the cashier glances at Derek. “When we were leaving, did we say where we were going next? Did we mention the ice rink at all?”

“No.”

The cashier says nothing else after that, which just proves Stiles shouldn’t do dumb things like smile at hapless cashiers. “Seriously? I get it, we were jerks last night- and sort of this morning too, but we’re kinda desperate. Is there _anything_ you remember about where we were going last night? Cause right now? I have no idea where we were when we drank. I can just, like, picture it in my mind. How did we get there though? You know?”

Derek can picture the place in his mind too. The wood plank walls and floor. The cool night air coming in through the open window. 

The cashier points North and says, “You went that way,” right as Derek realizes where they were. 

“Yeah, thanks, but we don’t need you anymore.” He grabs Stiles’ arm to drag him out of there before Stiles does something else stupid. Like offer his phone number to the cashier or suggest they get coffee sometime. 

Stiles squawks and stumbles after him. “You jerk! He was helpful! You were helpful! Thank you!”

Derek releases Stiles with a huff, if he wants to stand there all day and _flirt_ with that idiot, fine. Derek will figure out what happened last night and fix it himself. He storms down the sidewalk, ignoring the incessant tug of the mate bond. 

Stiles jogs after him. “Listen, I get this whole thing isn’t ideal. I’m pretty nauseous and my head feels like someone’s using it for bongo practice. I'm dying to just go home and sleep for ten hours or, like, I dunno, years. Whichever. And this whole bonding with the son of the potential new alpha of my pack isn’t a great look for me. Doesn’t really scream ‘responsible emissary’ to me, I guess. And I’ve never heard of a mate bond being broken with more than half success. Probably because they’re almost impossible to form, so if you do form one it’s probably for forever. That’s not, like, great for us or anything.”

“Do you have a point?” Derek doesn’t want a bulleted list of all the reasons Stiles doesn’t want to be bonded to him. It was a bad idea, Derek understands that, but they don’t have to keep _talking_ about it. 

“Just because things aren’t turning up aces for you, doesn’t mean you get to be mean to people, sourwolf.”

Derek stops so quickly Stiles runs into his back. He’s breathing heavily and it hits him that he is actually _infuriated_. “What should I do? Flirt with anyone and everyone, like you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You! Back there! With the cashier!”

“I wasn’t flirting with him!” Derek snorts. “How was that flirting?”

“You smiled at him!”

Stiles blinks and raises his eyebrows. His mouth parts as he stares at Derek in stunned silence for a moment. Then he flails both arms in the air and cries, “It’s called being polite! _Flirting_! No wonder you’re such a jerk all the time! You think common curtesy is flirting!”

“Oh, please. All you did was smile at him and compliment him and go on and on about how helpful he was, when he wasn’t even that helpful.”

“Compliment? What compliments did I give him? I was just trying to figure out where the heck we went last night. I kinda doubt we went to the ice rink first since I didn’t see any of our beer cans there.”

“Exactly. _I_ know where we were last night, not him. _I’m_ being helpful, not him.”

Stiles eyes dart between Derek’s for a moment. He narrows one eye, giving him a half-crazed appearance, and says, “Dude. Are- are you jealous?”

Derek scoffs. Jealous. Over what? That cashier, who barely looked old enough to be selling alcohol? Like he’s so great with his wavy red hair and stubble and sharp blue eyes. He isn’t even that tall _and_ Derek has stubble too. He is not impressive, at all.

“Oh my god, you’re jealous,” Stiles breathes. Derek turns around and marches away from him. Stiles, of course, follows. “Aw, sourwolf, don’t be jealous. You’re the only one I get thrown out of bars with.”

“Shut-up,” grits out Derek and hates this. He never should have gone out to the bar last night. He never should have interacted with Stiles. He definitely never should have mate bonded with him. 

“Seriously, dude,” says Stiles softly. “I wouldn’t flirt with someone else in front of my bond mate. No matter how accidental the bond.”

Derek hates that the words calm his wolf. It shouldn’t matter to him if Stiles is interested in cashiers or impressed by Derek's ability to recover his memories. But he's relieved to hear Stiles confirm he doesn't care about the idiot cashier, and his wolf is _flattered_ that Stiles is bragging about getting thrown out of bars with Derek. Even knowing Stiles was being a smart-mouthed jerk about it and not serious.

The whole mate bond situation is too serious. A knot of dread is forming in Derek's stomach, because he has a feeling he put himself under the power of a magic user. Again.

“Just follow me.”

* * *

_Last Night_   


Derek didn’t remember how many beers he drank. He also didn’t remember why he thought Paige’s old treehouse was a good place to drink. Paige didn’t even live at home anymore. If anyone found them there, then the police would be called. Mr. Krasikeva would have Derek arrested because he never forgave Derek for running over his petunias. 

It hadn’t been on purpose. Derek had only had his license for about a week, and Paige had come out of the house in her blue prom gown. What was Derek supposed to do when she looked so beautiful? Pay attention to where he was driving? 

He also didn’t remember why he and Stiles were lying down. There had been something… about the window? Maybe they were trying to hide from someone? Mr. Krasikeva?

All he knew was that Stiles had grown serious and less hostile and less… intimidating. He was still a magic user, but it was hard to remember when Stiles himself was so interesting. He never stopped talking, but Derek liked the sound of his voice. Liked the things he said. Even the dumbass things. 

And Derek had said, “Why does Scott want to join our pack now? He’s a True Alpha.”

And Stiles had said, “He’s not a True Alpha.”

“What?”

“It’s not a secret. I mean, not anymore. We told your mom about it.”

Derek turned his head to stare at Stiles, who kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling. “I don’t… he’s an alpha? Did he kill someone?”

“Nah. I gave him his powers.”

“What?”

Stiles was silent for a long time. Long enough that Derek assumed he wasn’t going to answer. It wasn’t that bad. Derek was drunk enough that he didn’t really care if Stiles never answered. It would be fine if all he did was stare at Stiles’ long neck and count the moles that dotted his cheek…

“My mom was a Spark. That’s the side of the family I get it from.” Derek hummed acknowledgement even as he watched Stiles’ eyelashes. “She didn’t present until I was eight. She died when I was nine.”

Derek flinched. “What?”

“That’s the way with Gajos Sparks. We come into our powers and then lose our minds until it kills us. The magic… it eats away at our brains, so that by the time we finally succumb to death it’s almost a relief for our family. That’s the way Gram always told it at least. Wasn’t very relieved when Mom died.”

“I don’t… you presented when you were sixteen.” Panic seized Derek’s stomach until he thought he’d throw-up. Was that why the McCalls wanted to join the Hales? Because their emissary was dying? Were they just giving up? They couldn’t just let Stiles die.

Stiles turned his head and stared into Derek’s eyes. Softly, as though imparting a secret, Stiles said, “I made Scott an alpha because he refused to join your pack, because I couldn’t let him become an omega. We told everyone he was a True Alpha so they’d leave us alone. Didn’t really work out that way. Diverting some of my power through Scott… it helped. I dunno why, but it levels my magic out to have it separated. 

“I diverted some to my dad so he can know the shades of lies and truth. Whether someone is lying and how much. I gave Lydia some so she can manipulate her banshee power beyond what a banshee should be able to do. I gave Allison the ability to literally feel what someone else feels, to know their life experiences as though they’re her own. 

“Everyone in the pack got something.” A frown flickered over Stiles’ face. “Except Liam, whose control isn’t great still. He won’t accept any of my magic on a subconscious level.” He shrugged. “I split my magic between them all and it keeps me sane. Keeps me alive.”

Bile coated the back of Derek’s throat the longer Stiles spoke. “You- you just do that to them?”

Stiles turned away from Derek to stare at the ceiling again. “Of course not. Everyone in the pack knows what I do to the others. They all get offered the same thing, and I tell them what I’d divert to them. If they don’t agree to it then I don’t do it. The young’uns all refused for awhile. They didn’t trust me either. Now they do, except Liam I guess. I dunno. That kid…”

"Making someone an alpha- powerful enough to pass as a True Alpha, that must take immense power. I didn't think it was possible for something like that to happen."

"Magic also shouldn't make Sparks go mad," said Stiles, "but look at my family. The Gajos spent generations hoping they would never present. Or that it would happen late in life." Stiles sat up and opened a can of his beer. Then he set it to the side and laid back down. Derek followed his movements, processing everything he'd been told. Then Stiles asked, “Why do you hate magic users?”

Derek closed his eyes. It wasn’t any of Stiles’ business. He could tell him to fuck off and Stiles would probably accept that as an answer. But, Stiles was interesting, and funny, and had shared a piece of himself already. 

So Derek told him about how Jennifer Blake came into his life. About how he didn’t remember much about their first meeting or his first impression of her. He wanted to believe he distrusted her, but he didn’t know. 

Everything from that time in his life was a blur now. He dated Jennifer. They went out together, they held hands, they kissed, they…. Everyone in the pack told Derek she couldn’t be trusted, but that just made Derek angry. He got into a fight with Laura over it so intense they nearly killed each other. He had defied his alpha for her and nearly separated from the pack. 

But Jennifer needed a werewolf beta, not an omega, so she didn’t allow that to happen just then. He proposed to her and she accepted and they were going to be married. On their honeymoon she planned to sacrifice him to some ancient god to finish a ritual, which would give her unlimited power. The ritual called for the sacrifice of a mated beta wolf. Apparently, Jennifer hadn’t realized that meant mate _bonded_ and not simply married. 

Before they were married, though, Peter figured out what she was doing. That she was using an enthrall spell on him. The next clear memory Derek had was of waking up in the hospital. 

When he finished, Derek expected Stiles to respond the same way Deaton had. Vaguely sympathetic for what Derek endured, but unwilling to condemn her. Power was always tempting and it was human nature to want it. 

Instead, Stiles called Jennifer every name in the book. He offered to hex her so that everything she ate tasted like overly salted popcorn. He condemned magic users who only wanted power and crossed boundaries trying to achieve it. 

Derek watched him rant about the issue for awhile, because Stiles was so passionate. It was hard not to watch him when Stiles worked himself up like that. The alcohol made Derek's eyes sting with tears, that was definitely the reason he was overwhelmed with the urge to cry. Because whether or not Stiles thought what Jennifer did was wrong was irrelevant. _Derek_ knew it was wrong. 

It still soothed an exposed nerve in Derek’s soul. 

Then Derek said, “We should do something fun,” because he wanted to do something for Stiles. He frowned. “I’m not really that fun, though.”

“Sure you are, big guy,” said Stiles reassuringly as he tried to balance a can of beer on his forehead. “It’s the middle of the night, anyway. What fun could we have that doesn’t involve the bar we were kicked out of?”

Derek considered the matter for a few minutes. It was important to ignore all of the activities that immediately came to mind. Everyone knew that Derek was boring and his idea of fun matched up more closely with an 80 year old. So, he tried to harness his inner Laura or Erica. “Ice rink!” He stumbled his way over to the treehouse ladder. He wanted to go down first, so he could catch Stiles if he fell. 

Stiles sat up, dropping the full can of beer down the front of his shirt and pants. He squawked and rolled away from the mess. While he flapped his shirt away from his abdomen he said, “It’s closed. We can’t break into the ice rink. The sheriff is my dad. You’re a cop.”

“Don’t have to. We just have to steal the keys from Boyd.” 

Stiles stared at Derek, open mouthed, as Derek climbed down the ladder. 

* * *

_Present_

Paige is standing under her old treehouse with a trash bag in hand. Derek glances at his watch to confirm that it is still only six in the morning. How had she known to come over to her parents’ house? For a moment Derek considers leading Stiles away from the scene of the crime. 

Too late, Paige catches sight of him and tosses the bag to the ground. She folds her arms over her chest and taps her foot while she waits on them to get closer. They’re so screwed.

Stiles mumbles, “Are we in trouble?” Derek nods. 

“I can’t believe you got drunk in my treehouse," she says the second they're close enough for her to truly yell at them. "Bad boy Derek Hale, refused to drink while underage, because he was terrified the sheriff or his mom would find out.” She turns on Stiles and says, “Do you know that I didn’t have my first drink of alcohol until I was actually 21? How many kids can say that? It was bad enough I was in orchestra, not even band, but _orchestra_. Everyone thought _I_ was the goody two shoes who refused to drink. Just because Derek was a werewolf and wore his dad’s old leather jacket. 

“As though he didn’t recite Pablo Neruda - _in Spanish_ \- to woo me. We went to _The_ _Nutcracker_ ballet when we were sixteen and everyone thought it was such a sweet gift from Derek. Nobody ever believed that I got the tickets for him. _The Nutcracker_ isn’t even good. I would have chosen _Swan Lake_, at least. But Derek is a softy for anything Christmas, probably because he’s a Christmas baby.”

Paige pauses to frown at Stiles. “Who are you?”

He holds out his hand and says, “Stiles Stilinski. I think I love you.” Derek growls before he can process that’s what he’s going to do. Paige stares at him, _still holding Stiles’ hand_, but Stiles ignores him. “Please give me as many facts about teenage Derek as you can.” 

Derek yanks Stiles away from her and frowns at him. “Will you stop? We’re here for a reason.”

“I agree, sourwolf. The reason is for me and he to become BFFs. I’m making us friendship bracelets,” he adds with unholy relish. Derek rolls his eyes. Stiles leans around Derek to ask, “Hey, what’s your favorite color?”

Derek covers Stiles’ face with his hand and gives him a shove. A gentle one, though, since he is human. “Why are you here so early?” He's a little annoyed at her presence, even if she is his best friend. He hadn't expected to share Stiles with anyone yet. Not that Derek- this isn't about liking Stiles. It's just about getting to know him and figuring out what happened last night. He's just surprised by Paige and not annoyed or jealous or whatever, because between the two of them, Paige has always been more likable. 

Paige’s face changes from thoughtful to irate in the blink of an eye. “Because my father woke up to walk Pixie,” to Stiles she explains, “that’s their dog,” then she returns her attention to Derek, “and he found beer cans in the yard. So he woke _me_ up at the ass crack of dawn to come clean up my mess. It didn’t matter that I told him I didn’t do it. It’s my treehouse so he’s convinced it’s my fault.”

She bends down and pulls a can from her trash bag. She holds out a can of _Mountain Brew_ accusingly. “You brought this filth into my treehouse. You owe me, Derek Hale.”

“I know”-

“I am going to make you cry.”

“Paige”-

“You will never want to drink again.”

Stiles steps around Derek. “You are my new favorite person,” he tells her fervently. “I’m begging you to tell me more embarrassing stories about Derek. I promise to use my powers for evil rather than good.”

“Stiles.”

“The first time we got drunk together,” says Paige, “Derek cried because dogs are too pure for this world.”

“_Paige_.”

Stiles scoffed. “That’s not embarrassing. I cry about that without alcoholic influence.”

“Ok, but do you do it while clutching your stuffed dog from childhood?”

“We’re leaving.” Derek drags Stiles away from the house. Over his shoulder he calls out, “I’m giving you a 5 AM wake up call everyday for a _month_.”

“Bye, Paige,” says Stiles, waving. “ Call me! We’ll trash talk Derek. I’ll papier-mâché your likeness!”

“Why would I want that?”

“I dunno. But I learned how to papier-mâché in high school and I _will_ use that skill again.” Paige laughs and Stiles grins at her. 

Derek sighs. He says, darkly, “It was a mistake to come back here.” 

Stiles stops resisting Derek’s pull and walks willingly away from Paige. He snorts. “What are you talking about? I loved her.” Derek growls again. “She is my new bro for life, big guy. Deal with it.”

* * *

_Last Night_

Erica and Boyd live in a house near the ice rink. Between Boyd’s responsibilities running the rink and Erica’s schedule training skaters, it made the most sense for them. The extra bedroom worked as a place for pack mates to crash and storage for Boyd’s wood carving creations. Now that they were trying to get pregnant, the plan was to turn the spare room into a nursery. 

Derek had sat on the spare room’s bed three days ago while Erica debated the various shades of ‘greige’ to paint it. He had done his best to offer no opinion and agree with whatever she liked. It didn’t make a lot of sense to him to worry about it yet. Erica wasn’t even pregnant, but she was one of his favorites, so he let her worry at him. 

The point was Derek was familiar with Boyd and Erica’s house. He knew exactly where Boyd kept the keys to the ice rink. It would take him less than five minutes to get into the house and snag the keys. He wouldn’t even need to pick a lock because he had a spare key. 

He turned to Stiles and said, “Stay here. They’ll hear your heartbeat and wake up if you go in.”

“What about you? Don’t lie. You’ve got a heart.” He reached out and touched Derek’s chest.

Derek stared down at Stiles’ long fingers on his body. Stiles curled his fingers and jerked his hand away. It was on the tip of Derek’s tongue to tell him that he didn’t mind. Which was ridiculous, because he should mind. Stiles was a stranger and a magic user and… he was different. This was different. 

“I’m pack,” he said, softly. “They won’t register my heartbeat as out of the ordinary.”

“But why are we going to the ice rink?”

“It’ll be fun.”

“Derek”-

“I swear it’ll be fun,” insisted Derek with a touch of desperation. “Fun is… I’m not fun. But _this_ is fun. Everyone loves the ice rink. You’ll have fun.” 

Stiles stared at him, his whiskey eyes studying him intently for a long moment. Then he nodded, just once, just shortly. “All right. Go get me keys to an ice rink.”

* * *

_Present_

Stiles stares at the house with his hands on his hips and nods. “This is pretty great. They should put a tire swing on that tree.”

Derek nods, even though he’s not sure why. His anger over the situation has faded almost completely. In its place is the uncomfortable knowledge that this whole thing is his fault. His wolf had attached itself to Stiles. That isn’t enough to create a mating bond, but Derek knows it’s his fault. 

Somehow he’s trapped Stiles into a mating bond _and_ managed to convince him that Derek is an asshole. Even if Derek suggests they… date within the bond or something, Stiles will laugh in his face. And Derek doesn’t even blame him. 

Stiles drops onto the front yard and lays down. “I’m so freaking tired,” he mutters. 

Derek sits beside him. He’s not in any rush to get to the pack anymore. That just means focusing his attention on breaking the mating bond with Stiles. He’ll do it, because that’s what Stiles wants, but it’ll be hell. 

“Hey,” says Stiles, and when Derek looks at him, his sharp eyes are on Derek. “You know you’re actually pretty fun, right?” Derek snorts. “Seriously. I was having fun with you without the ice rink.”

“All we did was fight with each other.”

“Yeah, but my favorite thing to do is mouth off to people.” Derek rolls his eyes. But Stiles sits up and continues, seriously, “Listen, I tracked you down last night because you were being an asshole behind my back. I was ready to smackdown with you, all right? But… I dunno, dude. The more we argued, the less I hated you. Like, your opinions aren’t _all_ the worst, it’s just some of them.” Derek shoots him a sardonic look and Stiles grins. “Bickering with you is pretty fun.”

“People don’t usually think I’m fun,” admits Derek. “Laura says I’m bad with new people and by the time I’m comfortable around someone, they already think I’m a dick. I’m better at being friends than at making them.”

“You’ve got trust issues,” says Stiles knowledgeably. “That’s cool. Me too. We can distrust the whole world and fight with each other. I dunno if you’ve noticed, but I’m not the most graceful person ever. Ice skating and me… not a match made in heaven.”

Derek sighs. “Even when I _try_ to be fun I’m not.”

“Oh, c’mon. I just told you I had fun with you. No pity parties!” Stiles throws an arm around Derek’s shoulders. “Anyway, do you even like ice skating?”

“It’s fine.”

“Glowing endorsement. What about running? I was on the track team in high school.”

“You were?”

“Dude, I’m just a pathetic human. I had to learn to outrun things trying to kill me.”

“You’re a Spark, Stiles.”

“Sure. But running’ll be more fun than ice skating. For both of us.”

Derek isn’t sure what is happening. It sounds like Stiles is planning on spending time with Derek. Like Stiles isn’t as insistent on breaking the bond and getting as far away from Derek as humanly possible. Like Stiles is planning on getting to know Derek. 

Stiles stands and brushes off his ass. Then he holds out a hand for Derek and says, “Let’s go. We’ve kept our packs waiting long enough.”

Derek hesitates. Not because he worries about whether he wants the mating bond, but because he worries whether or not Stiles does. Stiles, after one drunken night, has the ability to break Derek’s heart. That is one of the most terrifying things Derek has ever had to process. 

He takes Stiles’ hand. 

Because Derek trusts Stiles to be gentle with his heart, even if he decides he doesn’t want it. He probably shouldn’t trust Stiles with that. There’s ample proof that Stiles can be just as big of an asshole as Derek, but Derek trusts him all the same.

* * *

_Last Night_

They laid on the floor beside the ice. After nearly twenty minutes of searching through the skates for their shoe size, Derek had wrangled Stiles into a pair of skates. He had walked on the floor with all the balance of a toddler wearing their parent’s high heels. Derek had offered him the support of his arm, which Stiles had clung to as a life line.

Then, right before they had stepped onto the ice, Stiles had demanded they wait. He needed to rest after his journey from the skate counter to the ice. Derek hadn’t seen the point, but he had helped Stiles get to the ground. 

“We’re supposed to skate,” he reminded Stiles. How long had they been lying there?

Stiles groaned. “If I stand up, I will vomit on you.”

Derek twisted onto his side so he could watch Stiles. He was a little green around the edges, with his eyes closed, and a furrow between his brows. They were supposed to skate. It was supposed to be fun. But Derek didn’t mind lying there with Stiles and watching him. Stiles was the most interesting person Derek had ever met. He could watch him for hours and never get bored. 

So he told him. “You’re fascinating.”

Stiles opened his eyes to look at Derek. They stared at one another unblinkingly before Stiles said, softly, “Right back at you, sourwolf.” 

Derek snorted because he knew the truth. He was a boring person. He didn’t really like people and he didn’t like going out. His idea of a good evening was staying at home in his sweats and reading, or watching a movie with his sister or pack mates, or working out. Going to the bar with Isaac had been a fluke, not a pattern. 

Stiles was full of life and sharp humor and energy. Everything he said or did was intriguing. No one would ever get to know him and tell him he was boring. 

And the worst part was that Derek didn’t feel boring with Stiles. He felt energized and interesting. It was a lie, fueled by Stiles and alcohol, but it made him think things. It made him hope for things that Derek _never_ hoped for.

Stiles’ eyes were closed again so Derek put an arm around his waist. Stiles hummed and scooted closer. “I think you’re my mate,” Derek whispered. He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen. Maybe for Stiles to deny it or get angry with him or laugh in his face. 

Instead, Stiles opened one eye and said, “Hmm. I thought connection meant we’d be enemies. Nemesis and lover connections are alarmingly similar.”

Something warm and happy burst in Derek’s chest. It should have been painful or uncomfortable, but it just felt right. He closed his eyes and said, “Just stay with me. Mama will sort it out tomorrow.”

“Oh my god,” muttered Stiles. “You’re so adorable.” Derek hummed, although he wasn’t sure if it was in dissent or contentment. Then Stiles’ fingers brushed the hair at Derek’s temple. Solemnly Stiles swore, “Whatever else I do to you, I will _never_ use my magic against you.” 

Derek tightened his arm around Stiles and thought _I know_, but the words wouldn’t come out. Sleep overwhelmed him with Stiles cuddled close to him and peace settled gently over him. 

* * *

_Present_

Talia steps onto the front porch with her hands on her hips as soon as Stiles pulls his jeep into the Hale driveway. Sheriff Stilinski follows her, mimicking her pose but with an air of resignation. Neither Derek nor Stiles moves to get out of the jeep. 

Finally Stiles asks, “How much more trouble will we be in if we just… leave?”

Talia’s mouth moves and the sheriff’s air of resignation is tinged with amusement. Derek says, “She said there’s no where far enough we could run.”

“Cool. Cool.” He turns on Derek and gestures towards their parents. “You’re the werewolf. Go protect me from them.”

“You’re a Spark with enough power to support an entire pack, including creating an alpha.”

“Right, but I don’t have claws.”

“I bet you could give yourself some.” Derek’s head twitches towards their parents. “Your dad asked that you don’t do that.” He frowns at his mom, who has apparently been relaying their conversation to the sheriff. 

“Great.” Stiles releases a huge sigh then adds, “Let’s get this over with.” He basically falls out of the jeep, then beams at their parents. “I thought you’d be happy,” he says apropos of nothing. “I mate bonded with your _favorite_ deputy.”

Sheriff Stilinski sighs. “You can’t do anything by halves, huh kid?”

“I’ve gotta keep you on your toes somehow, old man.”

Sheriff Stilinski narrows his eyes at his son and Stiles brightens his smile. As though the sheer force of it will keep the sheriff’s ire down. 

“We’ve decided to date,” offers Derek. He doesn’t know what else to say. He wants to reassure his pack and family, but he always wants to snap at them to mind their own business.

Talia rubs at her temples. “Date? You’re mate bonded, Derek.”

Stiles and Derek avoid each other’s gaze. They’ve come to terms with their bond, but it’s still a little intense. The fact that they created a bond as strangers is as close to confirmation that they’re soulmates as they’ll ever manage. If they weren’t careful, the pressure would overwhelm them.

“It’ll probably be pretty successful dating,” offers Derek and Stiles bursts out laughing. The glower his mother shoots him means he probably shouldn’t be as proud as of this accomplishment as he is. “At least we’re already merging our packs.”

Stiles claps his hands together. “Speaking of that, there’s a few requirements we need to review Alpha Hale. Your suggestion on how to deal with Scott’s True Alpha status is… unacceptable. I have ideas.”

Talia stares at him as he jogs up the front porch stairs. “You _mate bonded_ my son.”

Stiles snorts. “That doesn’t mean I’m gonna roll over and let you do whatever you want to my pack. Scott’s a delicate orchid. If we try to move him and replant him without precautions, he’ll wither up and die.”

Derek hears Scott yelp Stiles’ name from inside. Stiles either doesn’t hear it or ignores it. “Don’t worry,” reassures Stiles, “we can negotiate rules around mine and Derek’s relationship on top of Scott’s ego. You’re gonna lose on both accounts, but it’ll be fun.”

Talia sighs. “He’s entirely too much like Peter, Derek.”

He flinches at the comparison, not because it’s wrong, but because it’s right. He doesn’t want to compare Stiles to any of his family. “Mom,” he whines.

“Don’t worry, sourwolf,” Stiles says over his shoulder, “I’ll deal with everything. Shall we, Alpha Hale.”

Talia follows Stiles into her study for another round of intense negotiations. As much as Talia wants to say that Stiles’ attitude is a point against him, it is actually a relief. Derek tends to isolate himself, even within the pack. The fact that he has someone willing to go toe-to-toe with an alpha werewolf for him reassures Talia.

It takes two months for the McCall pack to fully merge with the Hale Pack. Everyone is happy with the merger, even Scott despite giving up his True Alpha status. 

It takes six months for Stiles and Derek to move in together. 

It takes nine months for Stiles to propose.

It takes one full year before Stiles and Derek marry, in late October and _not_ at the ice rink.


End file.
